


The Next Time

by Goddess_of_the_Night



Series: The Time Series [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Declarations Of Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Happy Ending, John Watson has a son, M/M, Mama Watson is basically a bitch, Mostly Fluff, Mummy Holmes is a BAMF, Professor John, Sequel, Sexting, Student Sherlock, Teacher-Student Relationship, Telling the Family, Texting, Unilock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 05:16:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3597759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goddess_of_the_Night/pseuds/Goddess_of_the_Night
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sequel to “Maybe Next Time” that I swore wouldn’t happen.</p><p>What happens when Dr. Lestrade and John’s parents find out the truth? How do they keep their relationship hidden? What happens after graduation? All this and more in this next installment.</p><p>"It’s just, are you certain that a child is something you’re able to accommodate?” She asks gently, a question I had been expecting.<br/>“You know I never saw myself as a parent, or even a partner to someone else, but mum…there’s just something about these two. You’ll see, I know you will,” I say confidently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Next Time

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly never planned to follow “Maybe Next Time” with anything, but then people kept asking and my brain was apparently silently working on it in the background. So, when I finally allowed myself to think about it I already had it all figured out.
> 
> You will need to have read “Maybe Next Time” to fully grasp this story.
> 
> There will also be a part 3 which will consist of shorter (God, I hope, anyway!) one-shot looks in to different stages of their lives. I want it to go in chronological order and I already have a basic outline but nothing is written. However, if you have a certain scenario you’d like to see played out in this ‘verse, feel free to prompt me ASAP. I’m not guaranteeing I can cater to your idea, but I’d love to try. But I want to try to start writing and posting those soon, so get your ideas in quick (if you mentioned something in your review for “Maybe Next Time” it’s already been considered, thank you!).
> 
> Follow me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/goddess-of-the-night04) for an easy way to keep up with any new stories from me or just to chat; I'd love hear from you :)

Three more weeks until graduation, Sherlock; you can do this.

Except that now I’ve had John Watson, he’s all I seem to be able to think about. I’ve always had an addictive personality: first it was bees, then it was books, then it was tobacco ash, then it was my degree, and now it’s John.

We’ve been together for a week in technical terms, but we haven’t spent any time alone since he dropped me back at school six days ago. Tomorrow will be one week since we pretended to be boyfriends so well that we actually became boyfriends and proceeded to make love.

I had made it very clear to John that we couldn’t be seen together more now than we were before; that his job could depend on our discretion. It was my choice not to see each other until after I graduate, and I’m not certain I’ve ever had a more idiotic plan in my entire life.

Three more weeks until graduation, penis; there is absolutely no way you can do this, is there?

Having never experienced desire on the scale that I do for John, I thought it would be easy. I’d find my lack of true understanding humorous if the separation wasn’t making me more irate and unapproachable than usual; not even Mike attempted to speak to me most days.

It’s 7:30pm on a Thursday, meaning John’s final class of the day ended half an hour ago. If his pattern has stayed true, I have 15 minutes to catch him in his office before he leaves. I sprint up to the top floor before I realize I’ve given my legs the go order. Once at the top, I freeze.

 _‘No, don’t be irrational. Don’t bollocks this up before it’s really started,’_ I think to myself before turning towards the stairs, but stop again with my hand on the railing, my left foot poised to move to the first step.

 _‘No one’s here; everyone in the latest class vacates the building as quickly as possible and there are no major projects on at the moment. No one would know,’_ I think, convincing myself to turn around.

 _‘Of_ course _someone will know!’_ I curse at myself, _‘I have absolutely no luck in these types of things and plenty enough people hate me that they would love to get their hands on this kind of scandal to take me and/or John down. I can’t risk it,’_ and just as I’m about to descend the stairs – in actuality this time – I hear a familiar voice.

“Sherlock?”

I turn and become entranced by the concerned face of John.

“Are you alright?” He asks seriously, taking a step towards me.

I swallow thickly and shake my head, “May I speak with you, sir? Do you have a moment?” I ask in a calculated attempt at keeping it professional in the hallway, in case anyone is around to hear.

His worry intensifies, “Of course, let’s go into my office,” he says before turning and leading the way. He waits near the door and closes it once I’m inside, “Sherlock, what’s wrong?”

I simply stare at him for a few moments, my self-control completely wearing away being so close to him again. Without a word, I close the few steps between us and take his face in my hands before kissing him firmly. He moans low within his throat and pushes back firmly with his lips while his hands reach for my back to pull me closer.

When I can bring myself to pull back from him I lay my forehead against his, one hand moving to play with the hair at the nape of his neck while the other moves a thumb back and forth over his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, eyes closed, “I can’t control…I couldn’t stand…” I fumble with the words, frustrated that I can’t figure out how to articulate myself.

He chuckles and places a quick, gentle kiss on my lips before replying, “I missed you, too.”

My heart lifts at his words, but mostly at his innate understanding of what I was trying to get across without me needing to fully vocalize it. I rub my nose against his, an echo of the Eskimo kiss he first gave me before his lips one week ago.

John pulls back and I open my eyes as he examines my face, “You scared the bloody piss out of me, you know that?” he scolds with a contradictory smirk.

I cock my head to the side, “When?”

“Just now in the hallway; I thought you were going to tell me you were having second thoughts,” he admits.

“I _am_ having second thoughts,” I tell him and it takes me a few seconds to understand why his features close off and he takes another step back from me. _‘Sentiment,’_ I chide myself, _‘I really need to learn to understand it better if I don’t want him to walk away due to misunderstandings.’_ “God, John, I know practically _nothing_ about how to do this. How to be in a relationship, how to understand feelings, how to not think about you constantly. I detest the fact that I’m bound to be a bitter disappointment for you but am too selfish to tell you no.”

He looks confused, “So, you’re not having second thoughts about our relationship?”

“What? No! I’m having second thoughts about waiting to start it properly until after graduation,” I say as though that were obvious.

“Oh!” he looks pleasantly surprised, “What caused this change of heart, then?”

I look down and shuffle my feet in embarrassment, “Turns out I like you rather a bit more than I originally calculated. I find it difficult and frustrating to have to keep my distance from you.”

He chuckles and I raise my face to look at him again, “And you think you’re going to be a disappointment,” he gives me a mischievous look before pulling me in to another heated kiss.

When we pull apart again he continues, “We’ll still have to be careful; I do really enjoy working here and don’t want to risk jeopardizing that.”

“Absolutely,” I readily agree. Anything if he’ll let me kiss him again before three weeks is up.

His smile seems to be a permanent fixture as he glances at his watch, “Damn! I have to go relieve Mrs. Hudson; she thinks I’m going to be home in ten minutes,” he’ll never make it on time, but he moves around his office to gather his things to try not to be any later than he already will be.

With his bag and coat in hand, he approaches me and places a lingering chaste kiss on my lips, “You should text me when you miss me instead of getting yourself so worked up again. Word around the department is that you’ve been an absolute _joy_ to be around this past week,” he jibes, “It’s your last three weeks with these people; don’t burn the bridges just because we have to hide a little longer.”

“But I don’t even like these people,” I insist. It may or may not be accompanied by a pout.

“We both know that isn’t true,” he says while giving me a knowing look. I simply humph as an answer, “I’ll see you sometime; we’ll work it out,” he promises sincerely.

I lean in for one last lingering kiss, “It was good to see you.”

His affectionate smile widens, “And you,” he says before opening the door and leading us both out.

“Thank you, Professor,” I say at a normal volume, lest anyone were to hear.

“I’m always glad to help. Have a good evening, Sherlock,” he plays along.

“You too, Dr. Watson.”

And then we part ways.

**I miss you. –SH**

_I literally just got home and you miss me already?_

**To be fair, I did tell you that I can’t stop thinking about you. –SH**

_I may have been too busy worrying that you were breaking up with me to register that._

_Kyle says Hello, by the way._

**I told you I was going to mess this up! –SH**

**How does he even know you’re talking to me? –SH**

**Tell him I say Hello back, obviously. –SH**

_He asked me why I was so happy._

**…are you always this honest? I’m not this honest. Is that going to bother you? –SH**

_God, Sherlock, don’t overthink this! I’ve always been one of the easiest people to read, even for people who aren’t geniuses like you are._

_If you’re ever unsure of my mood or feelings, just look at my face._

**I can’t see your face. That’s literally the entirety of the problem, John! –SH**

_Sorry, what problem?_

**My problem of constantly thinking about you. –SH**

_Is this you not being honest? Because if so, I think we’ll be fine._

**I’m not kidding, John, I don’t…want to mess this up. –SH**

_You’re not._

**You’ll tell me if I’m starting to? –SH**

_Probably not in those words, but that’s what happens in adult relationships: the lines of communication have to remain open._

**Okay, but promise me you’ll tell me if I’m messing this up. –SH**

_I promise you will know if that is ever the case. Will you do the same?_

**I doubt I will ever have to. –SH**

_Sherlock…_

**Yes, yes, I promise too. –SH**

_Thank you. I hate to say it, but I need to go to bed; I’m knackered and tomorrow is another full day._

**Goodnight, John. –SH**

_Goodnight, Sherlock._

For the next six days we continue not to spend unnecessary time together within the department but keep up with our text conversations, slowly learning more about each other. The more I learn about him as a person, the more attracted I am to him, both mentally and physically. I have never met someone who became _more_ appealing to me as further data was gathered. My body remembers the man fondly, as well, and can’t help but anticipate our next joining. This is what brought about the next big idea on Wednesday evening once I returned to my single bedroom.

**John, are you awake?**

_Against my better judgement, yes. Did you just finish for the day? It’s nearly 10._

**Yes, just got back to my room. I hate Wednesdays.**

_I wish I could tell you that you’ll get used to them, but you won’t. Ever. They’re the literal worst._

**Wednesdays are literally the worst? I don’t think that word means what you think it means.**

_Oh shut up, you know what I mean._

**I guess.**

_So what brought about this opportunity for late night ribbing?_

**I’ve been thinking about what you said two weeks ago.**

_Which thing?_

**About taking me somewhere I don’t have to be quiet. About taking me.**

_Oh God…_

**I think about your hands all of the time, how they felt on my body and how they would feel preparing me to take you, the way you showed me on you.**

_Just my hands? You think of nothing else?_

**Your hands are beautiful; they remind me of surgeon’s hands. They intrigue me.**

_Sherlock **.**_

**Of course, I think about your cock, as well. The way it felt in my mouth and in my hand. I imagine how much it would stretch me, how good it would feel to be so full of you. Can you imagine it, John?**

_Yes. God, yes, I imagine it all the time._

**Are you touching yourself right now imagining it? I am.**

_Yes. I wish I could see you._

**See me in your mind the way you want me. Am I laid out beneath you staring up into your eyes? Am I on my stomach humping the mattress for any modicum of friction I can get? Am I up against a wall as you fuck me?**

_On your hands and knees as you propel yourself backwards on to my cock so that you can feel me harder, deeper._

**Yes! Oh God, yes, just a little bit more and I’m there.**

_When I’d feel you get close to the edge I would reach around so my hand can grasp that glorious cock of yours, bringing you over the edge as I_

_Fuck, I’m sorry; I couldn’t even finish the thought before I came. Do you need me to continue?_

**…no. No, that was quite sufficient.**

_You are so adorable, do you know that?_

**There has to be a less patronizing word.**

_Nope, adorable is really the best descriptor._

**Fine then; I’m too exhausted to argue right now.**

_I think we both need to go to bed now._

_Thank you for this._

**John?**

_Yes, Sherlock?_

**When can we do it for real?**

_What’re you doing this weekend?_

On Saturday we meet at an inn on the outskirts of the city. We arrived separately as it would be safer for us, and he proceeded to make good on all of his promises.

He taught me about rimming and gently introduced me to the world of bottoming. I would have thought I would hate to be treated like some fragile toy that might break, but as he kissed me while I adjusted to the discomfort and looked me in the eye as he slowly made love to me, I decided that there are far worse things in the world than to be the lover of John Watson.

As we lay cuddling in the bed afterwards, my head on his chest and his cheek on my curls as our fingers play with each other, he finally asks the question we have both been avoiding.

“What do you plan to do after graduation?”

I exhale through my nose as I nuzzle into his chest, “I’ve put in a number of applications with local businesses.”

“What businesses?”

“A couple of pharmacies and a few research centers,” I smile at the irony, remembering the occupation he told his parents I already had.

He chuckles and I can hear it rumble through his chest below my ear, “Doing what?”

“Focusing on drug trials, mostly.”

“Stable?”

“There’s always a new drug to test, isn’t there? And if not, there’s always a pharmacy.”

“So you’re hoping for the research job, then?”

I’m quiet for a few seconds, “It’s not what I had originally planned, but I think it could be very interesting and keep my attention.”

“Local, huh? How local?”

I blush, “All right in London. Plenty of opportunities here.”

“Any leads on a place to live?” He’s acting nonchalant but I can hear his pulse rate increase.

I move away from him just enough to get my right hand under my head so I can stare down at him, my left hand still playing with his on his chest, “I have an apartment lined up not too far from yours. I did think about…asking you…but I think you’ll agree that it’s best for Kyle if we take that step slowly.”

He smiles up at me with gratitude, “You’re wonderful, and very understanding even if you think you’re not,” I snort and roll my eyes, “Hopefully one day we’ll get there, but slowly will definitely be best for Kyle.”

“Maybe next time,” I smile at him teasingly.

He laughs loudly before pulling me down for a kiss.

The following Friday, almost exactly one week until graduation, he texts me first.

_Don’t make any plans for tomorrow night. I’m taking you out for dinner._

**Any specific reason? Or have you intuitively divined that I got offered – and accepted – a full time position today?**

_You did?! Sherlock, that is wonderful! Who’s the lucky company?_

**Moffat Industries as a research analyst working with the drug trials.**

_That’s perfect! I’m so happy for you!_

**Thank you, I’m very excited about it. So what was your real reason for taking me out tomorrow?**

_I didn’t have one except that seeing each other once a week is about all that’s getting me through until next weekend. I just miss you._

**Must you be so sappy?**

_Says the guy who started our text saga with ‘I miss you’._

**You told me to text if I missed you, it was the perfect segue.**

_I had to do something_ _to get you to settle down. People were starting to plot an intervention._

**They wouldn’t dare try one on me.**

_You don’t think so? You seem pretty confident._

**I am nothing but confident.**

_Right, I forgot for a second._

_Kyle misses you. Do you mind if I bring him along for dinner tomorrow?_

**I would love for him to join us.**

**What about Ralphie? Does he miss me, too?**

_I haven’t asked him yet. That’ll have to be a surprise._

Turns out that Ralphie did not miss me. I arrived at the nice restaurant outside of the city a few minutes before they did and stood in the entrance way to wait for them.

“Lock!” I hear the shout that draws my attention to the door before I see Kyle’s little legs working quickly to get to me.

I smile as I go down on one knee instinctively, not caring about my suit getting dirty, and pull him in to a hug when he’s within range.

“Missed you,” he mumbles emotionally in to my front.

“I missed you, too, sweetheart. Very much,” I whisper to him honestly, my stomach fluttering at the realization of just how much this child is attached to me, and I to him. I attempt to stand up, but he won’t let go. I chuckle as I place my hands so I can lift him with me and place him on my left hip as John beams at the pair of us with pride.

I reach with my free right hand to grasp the back of his neck and pull his shining face to mine for a chaste but meaningful kiss.

“Shall we be seated?” John smiles as he pulls away and leads us towards the hostess who tries to hide the fact she saw our display, “Reservation for Watson,” he says kindly.

A tiny flash of distaste passes over her features and I bristle in response, attempting to pull Kyle closer to me although it’s really impossible with the way his hands are clenched in my suit jacket and his face pressed to my shoulder.

“For three?” she asks with her practiced false charm, only looking at John.

“Yes,” he confirms neutrally, the smile still on his face is a bit less genuine by now meaning he didn’t miss her less than enthusiastic response to us.

The hostess turns to a man nearby and hands him three menus with a directing look, “Philip will lead you to your table.”

“Right this way,” Philip says politely and turns to lead us.

When we reach the table I stop by my chair and address the lump that has attached itself firmly to my side, “Can I put you down in your seat?”

He shakes his head firmly and I swear he grasps me tighter, “Can I sit on your lap? Please, Lock?”

I look to John for guidance, having never seen this side of Kyle before, and John reaches over to run a hand through Kyle’s hair, “Only until the food comes; you’ll have to eat in your own chair.”

“I understand,” he nods, “Thank you, Daddy.”

John nods to me with a small, sad smile and we take our seats.

“Can I start you off with some drinks while you wait for your server?” Philip asks, seeming touched by the display instead of repulsed like the hostess.

“Waters for right now would be wonderful,” John answers for us.

I nod as Kyle gets himself situated on my lap while my arms act as guard rails so he doesn’t fall. He finally curls up with his left side against my body, his back cradled in my right arm, and his head tucked under my chin with him facing John’s direction to my left at the table.

When he settles down, grasping my left elbow where it crosses him to rest at his right hip, I look at John questioningly to see a pained look on his face. When he notices me staring he gives me an apologetic smile.

“He thought you left. That you hadn’t been around because you didn’t like us anymore,” he says gently and my heart grips tight at the thought.

“You should have told me,” I say firmly, fighting emotions that so rarely affect me, “I would have come.”

He shakes his head, “I didn’t want you to feel guilty. This is a choice we made together and I stand by it, but I couldn’t keep him from you any longer. I thought he would be happy to see you and you’d never know…”

“I _am_ happy,” Kyle interjects, sounding anything but.

John smiles slightly at that, “I know you are, love,” he says before turning his attention back to me, “I haven’t been serious about many people in his life, and he’s never been so enamored with any of them the way that he is with you.”

As our waitress arrives with our waters, I lift my left hand to run it through Kyle’s hair soothingly.

“Good evening,” our waitress smiles, “My name’s Sarah and I’ll be taking care of you. Are we celebrating anything special tonight?”

“A new job,” John smiles towards me proudly and my lips quirk in response.

“That’s wonderful; congratulations!” Sarah directs towards me. She seems genuinely charismatic, suited for the service industry, and not at all bothered to be waiting on two men and a child.

“Thank you,” I respond out of habit, not that I actually care for this stranger’s praise.

“Can I bring you anything besides water or answer any questions about our menu for you? Our special tonight is a roast duck with seasonings on top of peasant potatoes and asparagus, and our soup this evening is a delicious lobster bisque.”

“We’ll have two glasses of champagne and one milk,” John orders our second round. I raise an eyebrow in surprise at the champagne, but he just smiles cheekily in return.

“Wonderful, I’ll grab those and be back shortly,” Sarah smiles before walking away.

John and I both reach for menus and it takes me a bit of maneuvering to become acclimated to trying to read it with Kyle still smothering me.

After I’ve quickly settled on my choice, I address Kyle, “Sweetheart, what are you going to eat?”

He lifts a shoulder, “What are you having?”

“The lobster bisque and eggplant parmesan.”

“Do they have pasghetti?”

I chuckle at the classic mispronunciation, “Yes, they have spaghetti.”

“I’ll have that,” he answers.

Just as he’s decided, the waitress returns with our drinks and takes our food orders.

When she walks away again I try to keep Kyle talking, “So what’s with the octopus imitation?”

He clams up again, simply grabbing on to me.

John clears his throat, “He thinks that if he lets you go, you’ll disappear.”

My heart clenches again as his hands tighten on me as if to confirm the words.

“Oh, sweetheart, no,” I hold him tighter, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He lifts his head to look me in the eye earnestly, “I love you, Lock, please don’t leave again. I’ll be better, I promise.”

This gentle, very human little boy has already seen too many people come and go from his life that at the age of four he has developed abandonment issues.

I swallow thickly before I can reply, “You don’t have to change a thing; you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried,” I promise and am surprised by the veracity with which I want to fulfill it.

“I told you so, love,” John tells him gently before meeting my eyes. There’s a look in them that I don’t dare hope says ‘love’, but it’s something pretty darn close.

My eye is drawn to Sarah as she walks towards us with our food order, “The food is coming. Do you want me to scoot over so you can sit between us?”

“Yes, please,” Kyle responds, his manners impeccable as always.

I pull him securely to me as I stand and then gently settle him in the chair, pushing it closer to the table and placing a soft kiss to the top of his head before moving to my new seat.

Kyle looks like his usual self again as he eats his spaghetti happily. As I lock eyes with John over the table, he mouths _‘Thank you’_ and I can’t help but smile.

The following Tuesday, there’s an email summoning me to Dr. Lestrade’s office at 2pm. I arrive at 1:57.

“Ah, Sherlock, come in,” Lestrade welcomes me a little too cheerily. I step in as I examine him: slight sheen of sweat on his brow, left leg is bouncing, and his hands are protectively lying on a closed file. Oh shit, nothing about this appears to be good.

“What can I do for you, sir?” I ask without a trace of fear in my voice.

“Just a quick meeting, but we’re still waiting on someone,” he dodges, avoiding my eyes.

“Who is the other person?” I ask suspiciously.

I hear someone clear their throat as they enter the office, “That must be me.”

When I turn to see John standing near me, my stomach drops. My fear must show to him because he gives me a warning stare with the smallest head shake before he stands a bit taller.

“Ah, Dr. Watson, if you’d be so kind as to close the door,” Lestrade says, sounding more nervous than before.

“Certainly,” he replies and does so.

I compose my face, slipping an indifferent mask on as I face Lestrade again fully.

“Gentlemen, I want to start by saying that this is the worst part of my job, and I certainly find this to be extremely difficult.”

“And what, exactly, _is_ this?” John asks with false kindness.

“It was brought to my attention yesterday that you two were seen out having dinner this weekend.”

I blink slowly, trying to think of a way to make this turn out in both of our favors, “I’m confused, are we not allowed to eat, sir?”

Lestrade blushes, “Of course you are, but this did not appear to be a platonic dinner at a nice restaurant.”

“What do you mean _appear_? Were you there?” I ask coldly.

He clears his throat, “The student who brought me the information also brought me some pictures they had taken.”

My face blanches and I hear John breathe in deeply through his nose.

“Can we see the pictures?” John asks.

“I would rather you didn’t,” Lestrade shakes his head.

“It’s not as though we don’t know what happened that night, but we deserve to know what they look like and what we’re being judged for,” I force out while trying to keep calm.

“You have a point…” he trails off and lifts the file from under his hands, holding it out to us. John stiffly walks over to grab it before coming back to me so we can look together.

The pictures themselves are fairly innocent: one as we talked to the waitress shortly after sitting down, my hand running through Kyle’s hair; one with me staring gently back at Kyle while John watches us with a sad but affectionate gaze; one of us smiling across the table at each other as Kyle’s spaghetti covered face beams.

“There is nothing at all incriminating about these photos,” I direct to Lestrade forcefully, “You can’t prove that it was not a platonic meal.”

“But…” he starts, but John cuts him off.

“As you are aware, Sherlock has been babysitting Kyle for me since I started working here - not as long as he’s watched everyone else’s children based on arrival date – and Kyle became very attached to him, as is common with younger children. Kyle was upset he wouldn’t be seeing him anymore so I thought we could all go out for a celebratory/thank you dinner.”

“The looks on your faces suggest…” Lestrade tries to start again, but once again John doesn’t let him finish.

“My child was hurting and neither of us is heartless.”

“Besides,” I interject, “even if it were not platonic, there are not actually any repercussions,” I begin and I see John tense up beside me, willing me not to continue in this vein, “I am not his student, there are no _actual_ rules against it in the university bylaws, and, quite frankly, I would hope you’d take action against the head medical librarian who uses his work computer to watch porn before some trivial situation such as this may or may not be.”

Both men are staring at me with their mouths open at the realization.

“Dr. Dimmock doesn’t…” Lestrade begins but doesn’t finish on his own accord this time.

“I assure you that he does,” I say.

“One of your little deductions?” He asks suspiciously.

“No, though that would have been sufficient; all of the students have caught him at least once. It’s the best kept secret in this entire building apparently, and to be honest, I’m surprised it hasn’t reached your ears before,” I say and when he has nothing else to ask on the matter, I continue, “So you can tell Sally that you looked in to the matter and found nothing of interest, despite her best efforts.”

“I didn’t say it was Sally.”

“You didn’t have to,” I give him a _‘Please don’t pretend to be an idiot’_ look.

Lestrade sighs and rubs his face with his right hand, “Let’s not pretend that we don’t all know what’s really going on here,” he gives us both significant looks and neither of us says a word, “Just don’t spend any one-on-one time together until after graduation, yeah? Then it doesn’t have to be my problem.”

“It’s not…” John starts, but it’s his turn to be cut off.

“Dr. Watson, I am not stupid; let’s just make sure the two of you aren’t, either.”

When we walk out of the office we face each other. I smirk at him and he exhales loudly before chuckling. We mouth silent _‘Goodbye’_ s to each other with genuine smiles before parting ways.

On Thursday I receive a phone call from my mother.

“Mummy, I really can’t talk right now; we have our last big tests today and tomorrow so I need to study.”

“I won’t keep you long, I promise, I just wanted to see what the final plan was for graduation this weekend.”

“The ceremony is at 2pm on Saturday, same as the last time we talked; I’ve already got four tickets in my possession.”

“Four? We told you that Mycroft won’t be able to come, right, dear?”

“Yes, the other two are,” I begin, but stop suddenly when I realize what I was about to say. I blame my study notes and trying to multitask for the slip up.

“What?” She asks when I don’t continue.

“Mum, there’s…I need you to not freak out,” I start, unprepared to have this conversation but seeing no way of delaying it at this point.

“Darling, what is it? You’re scaring me.”

I take a deep breath, resolute on getting through it all before I can overthink it, “I’ve been seeing someone. He’s a professor at the university and we’ve been involved for nearly a month. He has a four-year-old son and that’s who the extra tickets are for. John will need to sit with the rest of the faculty, but Kyle will be sitting with one of their neighbors who frequently watches him.”

There’s complete silence on the other end of the line as I close my eyes and try to focus on breathing steadily. I’ve never been involved with someone who has warranted telling my parents about before.

“Mummy?” I ask nervously after a few more seconds of silence, “Please tell me I didn’t give you a heart attack.”

I hear a deep inhalation as if she had stopped breathing while I was talking, “I…are you serious? This isn’t a joke?” She sounds so hopeful.

“Have jokes ever been something I’ve been fond of? Of course it’s not.”

“Sherlock that is wonderful news! So we’ll get to meet them both this weekend?”

“Yes, but please try not to be embarrassing, as though I’ve never dated anyone before.”

“But you _haven’t_ really ever dated anyone before,” she prods, “He must be very special.”

“He is a lot of things. I think you’ll like him and his son.”

“It’s just, are you certain that a child is something you’re able to accommodate?” She asks gently, a question I had been expecting.

“You know I never saw myself as a parent, or even a partner to someone else, but mum…there’s just something about these two. You’ll see, I know you will,” I say confidently.

“I’m sure we will; I cannot wait,” she says sincerely, her smile clear through her tone.

**My parents are very excited to meet you and Kyle.**

_Oh God, did you already tell them? How did it go?_

**My mother was understandably skeptical that I’d be okay with you having a son, but she handled it all well.**

_You’ve never wanted kids, then?_

**It never crossed my mind that I would be a parent of any kind. But there’s always been something special and different about Kyle. You know I adore him.**

_That doesn’t really…_

_Are you sure you…_

_Please read my mind. I can’t get the question out._

**Do I want to have other children? Probably not.**

**Do I want to be around to help you raise Kyle? Absolutely.**

**It’s not like I haven’t known you were a package deal the entire time, and I never would have let myself become involved and attached if I didn’t think that was something I could cope with.**

_Good. That’s good._

**Just good?**

_I am bloody ecstatic you feel that way._

**That’s the type of enthusiasm I was searching for.**

On Saturday my parents meet me in my packed room. I’ll be moving in to my new apartment tomorrow, but plan to spend tonight with John so there’s no reason not to be ready to go. My mother fusses over my outfit and hair, trying in vain to make me look presentable. My father just smiles at her antics with that same entranced look I’ve seen my entire life. If there is a couple more in love after so many years of marriage, I don’t want to meet them.

I walk my parents to the courtyard, my hat in my hands and my gown billowing over my suit with the gentle breeze; it’s a beautiful day for the outdoor ceremony. I show them to a set of seats that are going to give them the best view of the stage and my seated position, and we stand around chatting as I keep glancing around nervously.

“Calm down, everything will be fine,” I hear a familiar, calming voice behind me as a hand is placed on my left shoulder.

I smirk at John, nerves falling to ease at his confident presence, “Easy for you to say; not everyone is going to be watching you and hoping you’ll fall.”

“I highly doubt _everyone_ will be hoping that,” he jokes back, his hand falling from my shoulder as he turns to my parents, “You must be Mr. and Mrs. Holmes,” he reaches his hand out to my mother first, then my father, “It is such an honor to meet you.”

“You don’t need to put on an act for us, we’re not the harshest of critics,” my father smiles.

“I hate to inform you, but it’s not an act; he’s genuinely this charismatic all of the time,” I laugh.

“Well, that sounds utterly exhausting,” my mother jokes, “Where is your son? I thought he would be here, as well.”

“Oh, Kyle wouldn’t miss this for the world,” John smiles at me and I roll my eyes, “Mrs. Hudson – my neighbor who has agreed to sit with him during the ceremony – took him to use the restroom before we begin.”

I hear a bell toll and sigh as my nerves come back, “That’s my cue,” I address all three.

“I have a bit of time before I need to line up; I’ll wait here so Mrs. Hudson knows where to sit,” John assures me, giving me a reassuring smile.

“Thank you,” I say genuinely before smiling brightly at my parents and walking away.

The ceremony is beautiful and heart-warming, if you like that sort of thing, and blessedly fairly short. Once we finish our recessional, Mike finds me to shake hands and say our goodbyes; none of the other pharmaceutical graduates feel the need to follow suit and I don’t find myself wanting.

I feel a body stretching up along my back before a voice whispers in my ear, “I wish I could kiss you right now, but it wouldn’t be wise.”

I turn around with a giant smile on my face, leaning down slightly to whisper in John’s ear in return, “You looked dashing up there on stage in your full academic garb. I don’t think I heard a word of the entire ceremony besides my own name.”

He pushes me away from him with a playful smile, “I have to make a few rounds to the graduates, but I’m sure Kyle is bursting to see you.”

“We’ll wait for you,” I assure him before smiling once more and walking away to find my parents.

“Lock!” I hear a tiny voice shout and am shocked to see him running through a crowd of people to reach me.

I bend down and pick him up swiftly as soon as I can, “Kyle, you insane little monkey,” I scold half-heartedly as his arms wrap tight around my neck, “What if you got lost?”

“I wouldn’t, I shouted so you would see me. You always look after me,” he says so confidently that my heart swells at the trust he has placed in me.

“Oh good,” I hear a winded Mrs. Hudson say as she comes to a stop with her hands on her hips, “Little rascal gave me such a fright when he just went bounding off.”

“I already attempted to scold him, but I don’t think it worked,” I smirk at her.

“I doubt it did,” she laughs, “Your parents stayed behind,” she continues pointedly.

I nod to her gratefully as I begin walking towards their seats, Kyle loosening his grip enough to look around as we walk.

“Congratulations, Sherlock!” Mummy exclaims and gives me – and by extension Kyle – a hug.

“Thank you, Mummy,” I smile.

“I’m very proud of you,” Dad smiles genuinely, also giving us a hug.

“Thank you, Dad,” I blush with pleasure. He never withheld praise growing up, but he was always very selective about expressing the sentiment so that it held more meaning when he would.

“I assume you met Kyle,” I continue, breaking the emotional moment, “Though I bet he didn’t say much to you; he tends to get shy.”

“He stayed very quiet until your name was called, then he shouted ‘LOCK!’ and bounced on Martha’s legs as you walked across the stage. I’m surprised you couldn’t hear him,” Mummy laughs.

“I was a little focused on not tripping,” I say honestly.

“Daddy!” Kyle yells excitedly in my ear and wiggles to get down.

“Oh no, I don’t think so,” I tell him, holding him firmer, “You’re not going anywhere until I can pass you off myself,” I tell him seriously as I look him in the eye.

He ducks his head and stops squirming, “Yes, Lock, I understand.”

I kiss his temple, “You’re a good boy.”

He giggles and practically head-butts me affectionately.

“There you are,” John smiles as he reaches the group.

Kyle looks at me hopefully, “Now?”

“Thank you for waiting,” I say and turn so that his outstretched arms can be taken by John.

“What was that?” John asks me.

“I found him running through the crowd to reach me. He wanted to do the same to you just now, but I wouldn’t let him,” I tell him, slightly worried I sound like I’m overreacting.

“And a right good thing you didn’t,” his smile falls as he looks at Kyle, “What have we talked about to be safe?”

“Not to leave someone I know,” he mumbles shyly, eyes cast downward, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Because?” John presses seriously.

“Because not everyone is nice and someone might take me away,” he answers dutifully.

“Right,” he nods gravely, “And because you’re so adorable somebody might come along and just eat you up,” he finishes by pretending to eat Kyle’s neck, and he screams in delight as he thrashes from the tickling.

When John stops, Kyle is still laughing as he looks at his face with such complete adoration. He leans forward and kisses him on the lips and says, “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you more.”

“Nuh-uh!” He laughs again.

“No? Well, alright then,” he concedes before looking back at me. I don’t know exactly what look is on my face, but if the widening of his smile and the shift in his eyes is any indication, it’s probably a sickeningly sweet one.

“Are they always this adorable?” I hear Mummy ask.

“Yes,” Mrs. Hudson responds, sounding very put-upon, “Isn’t it hateful?” She smiles.

“Absolutely,” dad agrees with a proud smile of his own.

I roll my eyes and John blushes.

“There’s a cake at my apartment if you’d like to reconvene there?” John offers my parents instead of a response to the previous statement.

“That sounds lovely,” Mummy agrees.

“Is Lock coming with _us_?” Kyle asks John.

“I should go with my parents in case they get lost following you,” I tell him.

“I can go with you, if that’s alright,” Mrs. Hudson offers to my parents, “I live there, too, and I could probably get you there better than Sherlock could.”

“I have no doubts on that,” Mummy laughs.

“This has been some very subtle meddling,” I tell them sarcastically, “but can we go now?”

We head our separate ways; the older group to their car and the younger group to my room to grab my bag. When we reach John’s car I climb in the passenger seat as John secures Kyle in the back. When he gets behind the wheel he turns to me and grins, pulling me by the back of my neck to give me a thorough kiss.

“Daddy, cooties!” Kyle warns.

We pull apart with a laugh, “Don’t worry,” he turns to the back seat, “I took my cootie shot this morning.”

“Oh,” he says, “Good.”

John smiles at me before starting the car and driving us home. We arrive to see the occupants of the other car standing outside the building and talking to some other people.

“Oh bollocks,” I hear John mutter quietly, and when I notice he’s looking at the group with wide eyes, I turn to examine them again. My stomach drops when I recognize his parents.

“They still have no idea about the truth, do they?” I ask, entranced by the train wreck of a situation unfolding before our eyes.

“I haven’t found the right time to come clean,” he admits, placing the car in park but not moving to turn it off.

“Seems like that time is now,” I say before turning to him, “What are they doing here?”

“They knew it was the last day of my obligations for the year. I bet they thought to surprise me with an evening out.”

“Well…surprise!” I smile, getting one in return.

“They’re going to murder me,” he shakes his head.

“Very doubtful with witnesses around.”

“Not helping.”

“Gramma?” Kyle asks excitedly from the back seat, and we both turn to look out the front window where Barbara is hooking a finger at us with a stern look on her face.

“We’re adults, right? We can handle this,” John rambles to himself as he turns off the car.

“Is this your version of a pep talk? Because it’s absolute rubbish,” I hiss at him as I undo my belt and open the door. I take a deep breath as I head towards the group as John retrieves Kyle from his seat.

“Barbara,” I smile, “I see you’ve met my parents.”

Her face softens a little, “Yes, what a surprise to hear that they’re down for your graduation,” she intones conspiratorially. It appears that she hasn’t told my parents we’ve lied, but she’s slowly piecing the puzzle together.

“Did John forget to tell you?” Mummy asks her.

“No, I told them,” John enters the conversation with Kyle’s hand in his, “I just forgot to mention that you two would be here,” he finishes as they reach the group, Kyle running the last bit to hug Barbara’s legs, “I apologize, I didn’t mean for you to find out this way,” he tells her honestly, looking her in the eye so she can see he’s not referring to my parents.

She shakes her head and hugs Kyle again, “Let’s go inside; I hear there’s cake.”

Mrs. Hudson heads to her apartment, and I envy the ease with which she is able to escape the awkward situation ahead.

When we get inside, Barbara asks John to join her and Bill in his bedroom so they can talk. Kyle opts to stay in the living area with me and my parents.

I sit down heavily on the couch, my mother next to me and my father in the chair to my right, and Kyle moves to his toys on the floor in front of us.

“So what’s all this about then?” Mummy asks gently.

I sigh, not looking away from Kyle, “If you’ll recall, I mentioned that John and I have been together around a month,” I see her nod out of the corner of my eye, “Earlier that evening – before actually being together – we pretended to be a couple in front of his parents,” I finish with a blush.

“Why on Earth would you lie to his parents like that?” Dad sounds upset.

“John said it was necessary!” I plead with them, finally looking away from Kyle, “He said they were going to yell at him if he didn’t introduce them to his boyfriend that night.”

“Why would they do that?” Mummy asks with bewilderment.

“Because mum was bad,” Kyle says from the floor, still playing with his toys, “All the rest were bad, too, but alone was worse. They worry about me.”

I look at him sadly and he stares back with an open expression devoid of emotion, “Kyle…”

He looks back down at his toys, “When Daddy told them about you, they were very happy because you sounded good,” he looks up and smiles, “You are,” I smile in return, “But he spent so long telling them about you but not letting them see you that they started getting upset again.”

“So it _was_ always me?” I ask him, thinking back to a month ago where I wondered how long I had been the focus of the façade.

He tilts his head in a perfect imitation of his dad, “Of course.”

“Okay, so you lied about being a couple but then you became one. Why are they upset now?” Mummy asks.

“They didn’t know I was still a student or that he taught me last year,” my parents glare since they’re just learning that information right now, as well, “They thought I was 24 and working in a research lab on cloning.”

“Sherlock, the messes you get yourself in to,” Dad tuts as he shakes his head.

“I know,” I say to the floor.

“Well,” Mummy starts, “if you acted then like you act now, I’d think they’d just be happy it’s real at the moment, not be mad about when it actually started.”

“I’m not sure that will be enough,” I admit quietly.

“If what Kyle says is true – and I’ve no doubt it is – they just want what’s best for John and Kyle, and I think that that’s quite clearly you,” she says.

I look at her with tears in my eyes and an appreciative look on my face; I knew she’d see it, “You really think so?”

“Of course,” she says, bringing me in to a hug.

We sit in silence for another 15 or so minutes waiting for John and his parents to come out of the room. Kyle and I are trying to see who can build the taller tower before it topples over - I may or may not be cheating to let him win – when the door finally opens.

I look at them apprehensively and John tries to give me a smile but has to simply look away from me instead. I’ve never seen him look so defeated and it makes my blood boil. His parents are glaring daggers at me and I’m about to open my mouth to say something – anything – when my mother beats me to it.

“Barbara, Bill,” Mummy addresses them politely, “Siger and I would love to speak with you in the other room.”

“No, thank you,” Barbara denies icily.

“I think _now_ would be good,” she demands as her eyes harden in her way that says trouble will be had if you don’t comply. Barbara nods and all four parents head to the bedroom.

When the door closes, John winces and heads over to me on the floor. I open my arms to him and he buries his face in my right shoulder before wrapping his arms extremely tight around my torso. After a few seconds of wide-eyed shock and not knowing what to do, I settle for running my right hand through his hair while my left holds him and I whisper nonsense in his ear quietly.

After a minute I feel a pressure on the underside of my left arm and move to see the cause. Kyle is physically nudging his way under our arms to try to insert himself in the hug. John loosens up enough to judge the situation before chuckling and making room for Kyle. He happily burrows between us, facing us both equally, and clenches one hand in each of our shirts.

John places the left side of his face on my chest with a sigh, looking down at Kyle, and I sigh with a mix of contentment and sadness as my right hand resumes stroking John’s hair.

It’s around this time we hear our first clear words come from the other room:

**“My son doesn't act this way around _anyone_ , and I don’t think yours does either!” Mummy yells and our grips tighten.**

**There’s a mumbled response we can’t hear before Mummy becomes exasperated, “Then why does it matter _when_ it happened?!”**

The rest of the conversation is short and undistinguishable. They return to the living area minutes later to find us still huddled together. We slowly disentangle as we accept that we have an audience that probably wants to talk to us.

“John, Sherlock,” Barbara looks at us both in turn, “I apologize for my behavior. I really am happy this is real, it was just a shock to find out that it wasn’t always what I thought it was.”

“Thank you, mum,” John whispers.

“We love you, and we love anyone who makes you and Kyle this happy,” Bill adds with a look that, to me, says _‘I’m sorry your mother is crazy.’_

John smiles, “Thank you, Dad.”

He nods, “We’re going to go,” he says pointedly to Barbara and then looks at me, “Congratulations, Sherlock, it’s a great thing you did today.”

“Thank you, sir,” I smile.

“And good luck with your real job at a real research lab,” he winks at me and I can’t help but laugh as he leads his wife out of the apartment.

“We’re going to go, too,” Dad says, “Figure you guys could use some alone time.”

“We’ll give you a call tomorrow; hopefully we can do brunch or something,” Mummy adds with a smile.

“That would be wonderful,” John smiles as he finally stands from the floor and I follow suit.

Dad pulls me in to a hug as mummy pulls John in, “Thank you, Dad,” I whisper, “You were amazing today.”

“It was all your mum; no one hurts her baby cubs like that and gets away with it,” he pulls back and winks.

I laugh as mummy pulls me in to a hug next, “I’m so happy for you,” she whispers.

“Me too. I think this is…” I start but can’t find an adequate way to finish the statement.

She pulls back with a huge smile and kisses me, “I know what you mean.”

“Thank you for today, all of it meant a lot to me.”

“There’s absolutely nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Congratulations again, on everything,” she stresses with a smile and I can’t help but blush.

“Can you come say goodbye, Kyle?” John asks.

Kyle stands and walks over to my parents, giving each set of their legs a hug in turn, “It was nice to meet you,” he smiles up at them.

“He is such a polite young man,” mummy compliments John.

“Thank you,” he beams with pride as he runs a hand through Kyle’s hair as he is now holding one of his legs.

“We’ll see the three of you tomorrow, yes?” Dad asks.

“Of course, sounds lovely,” John smiles.

After we’ve eaten dinner and put Kyle to sleep, we lay facing each other on the bed. Our legs are entwined and our hands are flitting freely over each other’s bodies.

“Your parents are remarkable,” John says with honest reverence.

“They amaze me more the older that I get.”

“They love you so fiercely, to have stood up to my parents like that. To fight for you.”

“To fight for _us_ , you mean.”

He shakes his head sadly and I grab his chin so he looks me in the eye again.

“If my parents have taught me nothing else in my life, they left me with no doubt on how to protect those that I love. If mummy had not beat me to the punch, so to speak, I would have gladly fought that battle for you.”

“You…” his eyes are shining with hope and adoration.

“I love you,” I confirm easily with a smile and then tease, “Was that not completely apparent yet?”

He laughs, “It was, but it’s good to hear the words,” he places a kiss to my lips, “I love you, too, you know.”

“Obvious,” my smile widens and I kiss him passionately.

“So you would have fought my mother, huh?” He jokes when we break apart.

“Absolutely. Tooth and nail if I had to.”

“Hmmm,” he mumbles contently before rubbing our noses together gently the way that I like, “Maybe next time.”

I laugh loudly and pull him in for a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Any comments, good or bad, would be greatly appreciated so I have an idea of how it went over.
> 
> A reminder that I'm American so the graduation thing was probably not exactly right. Let me know if I can change anything! Also, I'm not sure little British children mispronounce "spaghetti" like we do here, but for the love of God don't tell me if I'm wrong! The mental picture is too cute; let me live in my dream world on this one.
> 
> Please remember that this started as an original story whose characters were not really anything like John and Sherlock, so I tried hard to keep them as true to BBC canon as possible, but their original characters slipped through every so often.
> 
> I was nervous to write this because I didn't want to disappoint those who enjoyed the first one, so I sincerely hope I haven't! Maybe I did and you don't even want a third part? That's okay, just tell me.
> 
> Remember to leave me any prompt ideas for Part 3 (Dear God, am I really doing this?) if you have them!


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